


No One Mourns the Wicked

by overall_sin_and_trash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Heavy Angst, M/M, Michael is also a crazy ass bitch, Yeah no that's all it is, but yeah no that's it, so there is that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overall_sin_and_trash/pseuds/overall_sin_and_trash
Summary: Michael, trapped in the Cage, reflects on his time, and actually sharing new moments, with his younger (and favored) brother, Lucifer.





	No One Mourns the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> this literally was supposed to be -1000 words. But okay.

   “No one mourns the wicked…” He was singing, softly, even though Adam had long since wasted away. But he knew who he was singing about, it wasn’t the wicked witch of the west.

   “No one cries… no one lays a lily on their grave… the good man scorns the wicked…” He paused at that last line.  _ The good man scorns the wicked.  _ Does he? Does it make a man good to scorn the wicked? Michael had no reason to think so, he had scorned his brother and praised as “the good son” for doing it, but that made  _ him _ wicked. Lucifer wasn’t wicked. He wasn’t. He  _ became _ wicked, and that’s different. Sure, his younger brother was rash, and yes, he wasn’t fond of humanity, but he wasn’t wicked because he wouldn’t act on it. Lucifer was blamed for the effects of the mark, and even when Father would tell the viceroy in private (it only happened once) that the mark only amplified what Lucifer was, none of it seemed fair. Lucifer wouldn’t have done anything to harm humanity without the mark-- but everyone refused to see that He was the monster, it was His fault, not Lucifer’s.

 

   Michael cracked a smile and leaned back against the Cage’s bars. Everyone made Lucifer the bad guy-- even he did. He convinced himself for eons that it was his little brother’s fault. At first it hurt like nothing else, to hate his closest sibling was torture, but it, like everything else, subsided to a dull ache. The dull ache wore away into numbness, a sheer lack of emotion, and all of Heaven felt it. The Host grew cold, and the once happy lights emitted a dire grey. He did his job, took duty as the good son, and even took Heaven when He left them. Heaven had never been so cold. Without their father’s light, without their Morning Star, they were left frigid. Raphael grew distant, Gabriel ran away-- no one could stand how cold he had grown.

 

_ “It’s like you’re not even here!” Gabriel had cried. “Without him, you’re nothing, so why’d you do it!” _

 

   Michael didn’t have the heart to feel offended. Michael didn’t have the heart to feel anything, and that was the problem. He ruled well, yes, but no one thought him as a friend, just a distant god in a quiet heaven.

 

   But then everything changed. The world was supposed to end, and Lucifer was free on Earth. Lucifer wasn’t ready to fight, but he was. He had been preparing to kill his brother for ages. It would be easy, it would be fast, and then nothing had to matter anymore. Heaven and Hell could screw themselves, and he could finally just die.

 

   What he had forgotten was that his dear brother had a silver tongue.

 

~~__ _ HE FORGOT EVERYTHING, HOW COULD HE JUST FORGET?! _ ~~

   Lucifer didn’t want to fight. He wanted to love him again, he wanted to just forget about it all and have his brother back again.

 

   But Michael didn’t know what to do. He was feeling again, a deep, heart wrenching sorrow that flooded his system and choked his thoughts.

   “It’s good to see you, Michael.” Lucifer said, breaking the silence.

 

   Michael let too much emotion out with: “You too.” and “It’s been too long.”

 

   “Can you believe it’s finally here?”

 

   “No, not really.” He sighed, walking a few steps closer. “Are you ready?”   
  


   Lucifer took a breath. “As I’ll ever be.” 

 

   Both of them fell silent, unsure of what to do.

 

   “A part of me wishes we didn’t have to do this.” Lucifer went on.

 

   Michael’s (Adam’s) heart lurched. “Yeah.” He said softly. “Me too.”

 

   Lucifer advanced. “Then why are we?”

 

   Suddenly, he felt more rage than remorse. “Oh, you know why.” He said. “I have no choice after what you did.

 

   Lucifer looked like he’d been slapped. “What I did? What if it’s not my fault?!”

   Michael actually smiled for a moment. “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

   “Think about it.” Lucifer continued. “Dad made everything, which means he made me who I am. God  _ wanted _ the Devil.”

 

   Oh, it hurt the eldest archangel to hear his brother call himself that. “So?” he managed, anger shifting between guilt and sorrow.

 

   “So  _ why _ ? And why make us fight?” He asked. “I just can’t figure out the point.”

 

   More anger. “What’s  _ your _ point?”

 

   Lucifer swallowed something he might regret. “We’re going to kill each other, and for what? One of Dad’s tests? And we don’t even know the answer.” He paused. “We’re brothers, let’s just walk off the chessboard.”

 

   Michael, again, felt horrible. His brother, his favorite brother, was begging him for peace. Peace that he wanted as well.  ~~ “Okay, Lucifer, I’m so sorry.” ~~ “I’m sorry, I-I can’t do that.”

 

   Lucifer looked wounded, he sincerely didn’t want any of this.

   Michael fell back into the rehearsed line. “I’m a good son, and I have my orders.”

 

   “But you don’t have to follow them.” Lucifer interjected.

 

   “What, you think I’m gonna rebel? Now?” Michael almost scoffed. “I’m not like you.”

 

   “ _ Please _ , Michael--”

 

   “No, you haven’t changed a bit, _ little brother. _ Always blaming everybody but yourself. We were together, we were happy-- but you betrayed me, all of us, and you made our father leave!”

 

   “No one ‘makes’ dad do anything, He is doing this  _ to _ us!”

 

   There was another heavy silence.

 

  ~~  “I’m so sorry, I missed you so much. I love you.” ~~ “You’re a monster, Lucifer.” Lucifer’s face made him want to cry, but he couldn’t stop. “And I have to kill you.

 

   “If that’s the way it’s gonna be--” Lucifer gulped and set his jaw, looking angry for the first time they had been talking. “--Then I’d like you see you try.”

 

   With that, the fighting was kicked off, and Michael was truly ready. 

 

   But of course, Dean Winchester had to ruin it. Blasting ‘Rock of Ages’ and showing up in his Impala, he made it clear that he didn’t want anything to go down. Michael tried to get him to leave, telling him that he was no longer part of the story, but he’s a Winchester. He didn’t listen. Michael ended up getting a molotov cocktail to the chest, courtesy of some seraph that the eldest Winchester brother was infatuated with, Lucifer ended up being overpowered by Sam, (Though Lucifer might have willingly given up that one) and both archangels ended up being flung into the Cage.

 

   At first, Lucifer ignored him, and then he started confronting him. He said he aimed to fight-- but always ending up sobbing in his brother’s arms. Michael swore he’d keep hating him, but he couldn’t. Time was so slow down in Hell, and spending all that extra time with Lucifer only brought back good memories.

 

   And it’s a good guess to think that it went wrong when he started to remember who Lucifer had been. Michael was overwhelmed by a frenzy of depression and remorse, that quickly blossomed into a manic state of mirth and animalistic  _ lust _ . He did horrid things to the younger, reveling in the way he screamed and begged him to  _ stop, stop!  _ But he just couldn’t keep himself away-- he whispered praise into the Devil’s bare skin and carved promises on his wings, telling him how he loved him, and that he’d never leave him again.

 

   But later, he woke up from the frenzied state and felt only horror. 

 

~~_ WHAT HAD HE DONE, OH, WHAT HAD HE DONE?! _ ~~

 

   He was bitterly ashamed of his actions, as Lucifer cowered away from him in another corner of the vast Cage, shivering and swearing threats and apologies to his brother and to his father. Michael threw his head against the bars often, screaming at himself and everything else, for now he found that he too was wicked.

 

   Sam Winchester’s body was lifted from the Cage, and his soul was later picked up. Adam Milligan cried in the corner until he, by some force, just wasted away. It left the archangels alone together, but that meant almost that they were both alone, for neither dared to speak with the other. The most conversation they had was their manic screams as they felt the Darkness be freed.

 

   Michael began to sing, at one point, and to Lucifer’s sorrow. He was lost, Lucifer could tell, and now he was alone. He sang showtunes, mainly, in a childlike way that had made Lucifer wont to sobbing and shrieking in grief.

 

   Soon Lucifer too was freed from the Cage, thanks to Sam’s ignorance, but Michael scarcely noticed. He felt his brother was alive, and that was enough for him. No longer did he want to be saved from his Hell, he felt alienated from the Host as it was, so his being in such a wrecked state would do more harm than good, he thought. Father meant nothing to him anymore. Even when he felt Him return to Earth, He didn’t even talk to him. Not a single word. After he had given everything to Him. Michael gave Him sole devotion, therefore ] his brother was lost, and in turn he handed Him his very own heart, soul, and mind, but all for naught. He gave up everything he ever wanted, and it was all for naught. The most was a pat on the back and some kind words, but it was all hollow, for even after everything that had happened, He left him. 

 

   And so what was he? A glorified lap dog with wings and a halo? Was he ever anything other than some lesser being to Him? Thoughts like these pushed him farther into madness, and he understood why Lucifer rebelled, even going as far as to forgive him.

 

But it was awfully late for that.

 

   Lucifer was free, he knew, and God and the Darkness were nowhere to be found. Gabriel was alive, out in Monte Carlo with porn stars and norse gods, but Raphael was still dead. It seemed Lucifer had a child, as well, the world shook with the energy of a nephilim, and an archangel’s nephilim at that. How the world had changed.

 

   Michael had just finished singing the end of Hamilton when he felt something new. Something that felt like him. And it was, it was him, just from another world. Michael didn’t care about why he was there, nothing really mattered as long as his brothers were safe. But quickly, all too quickly, his heart filled with despair. In a matter of moments, he could feel Gabriel’s grace explode rapidly and die out. It hurt every part of his (tainted) grace, and he could hear his baby brother screaming all the while. He prayed to his father to help them, for now he realized with this new Michael would do, but He never answered. Again, there wasn’t a single word.

 

   He dried his tears and began to sing again, Wicked, this time. He had to pause multiple times, stopping to cry, stopping to swear. He picked up the song again, feeling more able to get through it--

 

And then it happened.

 

   He could see it while it happened.

 

   “DEAN!” He screamed. “DON’T DO IT! DON’T DO THIS!” But, like everything else, it was all for naught.

 

   He could see, hear, and even almost feel the blad pierce Lucifer’s grace. Michael screamed in tandem with his brother, thrashing against the bars and writhing on the ground.

 

   “LUCIFER!” He sobbed, crying madly and shrieking still. “ _ NO, NO, NO! _ ”

 

   He had never felt so  _ empty.  _ So  _ cold.  _ It was harrowing. But worse, this new Michael did it. Who did he think he was? This wasn’t his world-- that wasn’t his Lucifer-- he had no right to be this world.

 

   His vision (and eyes, for that matter) flared red. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger than ever, directed at the new Michael and him alone: “He wasn’t yours to kill.” He hissed. “No one can kill my brother, except me.”

 

   He placed a hand on one of the bars, to find it sizzle out of shape, creating a gap for escape. Michael laughed, bitterly, darkly, madly--   
  


His eyes burned brighter than all Hell’s fire and Heaven’s light,

And his smile rested more crooked than the Cage’s bars.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked that! And now you see I wasn't kidding when I said it was only angst.


End file.
